


Retail Therapy

by therune



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 14:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13683318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therune/pseuds/therune
Summary: James takes on a retail job to stake out a nearby bank and notices two shoplifters in his store.





	Retail Therapy

“Morning! Welcome to Evergreen’s, can I help you find anything?”

The older couple directed a grin at the cashier, but moved on. It was 10am on a Thursday in April. This Evergreen’s was on the corner of Patton and 49th. It was a small shop, barely enough for 2 registers. The shelves were full of the usual – make-up, hair and body products, small section of writing utensils, smaller section of cheap toys, organic food and of course candy.

The woman returned to the front, holding two bottles of pink shampo.

“Could you be a dear and look up which size is included in this week’s coupon?” she asked. The cashier – a young man, out of high school but not college – smiled brilliantly and told her the answer. Her husband came along short after with a small plastic basket containing more toiletries. They made pleasant small talk, paid and left. The store was quiet and empty.

 

The young cashier then vaulted over the register and pulled out a phone. The store’s cameras sadly had been suffering from malfunctions and then had been turned off. Of course, he had aranged for the malfunctions himself.

The young cashier was nobody else but the Trickster and he was busy staking out the bank on the opposite side of the road. He documented when the cash transport arrived and left, the different guards and when they changed shift, the employees and especially who sneaked off for a smoke break and didn’t always think to close the door to the alley properly. Getting a job at this small drugstore had been too easy. Forging his documents and new ID (Jerry Thompson) was routine and the job interview – he simply turned on the charm and let a little desperation seep through. Country boy moving to the city for college, needing a part time job to help pay for tuition, honest soul, hard worker… he’d been hired on the spot.

 

A week later, he was trusted to run the shop by himself. That is when his surveillance started. A week more, maybe two, then he could run the bank job.

And he’d do it without the others, because they had been monumental jerks and as much as he loved the guys, there were times when he needed a break. What better than robbing a bank to finally show some people (Digger) that he was capable of working ‘real jobs’ (Len) alone instead of pulling silly cons (Mick), earning his share (Sam) and not being a mascot (Mark). Rationally, he knew that it wasn’t what they really thought – cabin fever, drinks and more drinks being a bad combination – but it had still hurt, so he’d left. Not before booby-trapping the house with glitter, paint and 8 alarm clocks hidden where the guys would never find them, of course. The others weren’t living at the 'playhouse of evil’, smart, sensible men and Lisa that they were. Which also meant that he was crashing on her couch. But he did promise to hit a few lockboxes for her, and one was bound to contain jewelry of some sort, so she wasn’t too bothered by having a new roommate.

 

James noticed customers approaching, so he straightened some product – nail polish – and then turned his 1000 watt smile on them.

“Welcome! Can I help you lovely ladies find anything?”

The two women – young, immaculate hair and make-up, one of their shoes costing probably more than his monthly salary – turned to the make-up aisle without acknowledging his presence.

“This color’s cute,” one of them said – the taller one.

“Totally. But I also like the pink, and the magenta….and the fuchsia. And you should go for peach. Peach’s your color.”

Similar exchanges went on for a few minutes while the pair systematically walked down the short make-up aisle. They made delightfully shallow conversation about the color of the car one father bought not being the one she wanted and the incredible need for a second summer house.

James eyed them suspiciously. Something was off about them. He looked at the little bottles, tubes and boxes – aha. Some were missing. And neither of the women was carrying anything in their shopping baskets other than two magazines in one and a few bags of candy in the other. He turned his back almost demonstratively and rearranged the shelf with pink razors and shaving foam. Out of the corner of his eye he saw them slipping tubes with make-up in their coat jackets. Ah – naturally the most expensive products this shop carried. He quickly did the math – judging by the missing product, they had almost 400$ worth of make-up in their pockets.

 

“Could I interest you in some of our new perfumes? We just got the new line by Vicky Vermont.”

In his opinion, people were mainly buying the perfume for the name on the bottles than the contents inside, but they were still paying 90$ for it. While the girls walked past him, he quickly reached into one of their pockets and pulled out their latest loot. They didn’t notice, but then, he’d been doing this since he was 6. Their loot ended up swiftly tucked under their alibi purchases. Then while he was picking up a fallen price label, somehow the lipsticks – pink, fuchsia, peach but no magenta after all – ended up beneath the candy. James used his index and middle finger to dip into the pockets of the other woman and pulled out a facial peeling. Worth 65$ and ended up under the magazine. He passed them two more times, both for absolutely valid reasons, clearing out the last product from their coats.

 

Then he very obviously followed them. They huffed, but went straight to the register. James gave them his best retail smile and took the baskets.

“Have you found everything?”

“Just these,” one of them said.

For a second, James wished that the cameras had been functional, because the look on their faces as he pulled out their stolen goods from under the magazines and candy was priceless.

The taller one looked as if she might object, but the other elbowed her and both were silent.

“And that’s 476 dollars and 67 cents,” he announced. “Cash, debit or credit?”

 

 

If only the bank job had been as much fun. The bank turned out to be a front for the mob since the lockboxes didn’t contain jewelry but black books, guns and in one case a mummified hand. It did wonders for his conscience though, not stealing from rich dirtbags, but criminal rich dirtbags. He quit, but not before using his staff discount on tons of make up. Lisa loved that, of course, and they spent the next evening painting every nail they both had in a different color.


End file.
